At first, there had been a sense somewhere between hope and concern that this new bird-creature would be difficult for the scouts to spot. If they couldn't find any more examples of it, then it meant that the problem was likely something to be brushed off and pushed to the side for the time being, but Erkandirin secretly wished the scouts would report something so that the issue wouldn't linger in the back of his mind and nag him. If the dwarf could go back in time to when he had that thought, he'd have slapped himself silly until he couldn't even begin to think finding these damned birds was a good idea. Three days of scouting had passed without so much as a stray feather on the ground that looked like it came from their targets. The fourth day, though, the church's bell was ringing out an alarm for the citizenry and non-combatants to hide indoors while a veritable cloud of black-feathered fiends circled the town just shy of bow range. Sure, a few of the higher leveled hunters and guards more capable of the bow might be able to hit them at that range, but they weren't about to provoke the storm circling them with merely a few arrows.

It all began when the latest batch of scouts came back that morning, and had reported sighting several of the birds circling in an oddly regulated pattern. Their paths of flight remaining in sight of at least two others of their kind, but never travelling as a flock. The creatures, or more likely the dungeon that spawned them, was searching for something. Dungeons never went out to look for a fight. They might pursue those who managed to escape the exit for a short distance if they had creatures similar to these birds, but it looked like the dungeon was actively hunting outside its boundaries. 'Of course we try and starve out a new dungeon and we find the only dungeon in history that goes out hunting instead.' It seems the scouts had been followed back to Kremston, and now the swarming flock was receiving more and more birds by the hour. 'Perhaps they aren't prepared to deal with a town? Gods above, the very idea of a dungeon sieging a town...' The Guildmaster stood before a map of the town, giving out orders as more adventurers reported in for assignments, trying to balance the forces around town and keep every area appropriately covered for when the birds decided to make a move. 'Come on, fly away you foul beasts. This is too tough a nut to crack, figure that out. And do it before enough of those birds show up that no longer remains the case...'

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'Ah, Amanda. I'm sorry it took me so long. I had felt like a part of me was missing these past few days, but even being able to see you again soothes my soul.' Malcom stared around the inner sanctum of his core in something approaching genuine happiness, the space arrayed with Amanda. Everywhere, every surface, every statue, arrayed with her image. At first, he had struggled with a way to create a mural of her, wanting to ensure he captured every detail exactly as he remembered, but could only work with this damned obsidian-black stone. The result was that the back wall of the fifty-foot stone box of a chamber he created had a massive portrayal of Amanda out of carved grooves in the surface. Feeling her looking back at him had been a boost to his spirits he had almost forgotten in the chaos of his arrival here, alongside a shallow sense of guilt that this hadn't been the first thing he had done. Damn those instincts that drove him to push her aside for even a moment in favor of his own safety!

He had followed from there, carving more images to his love across the walls and ceiling. Large and small all intermingled in a chaotic jumble that he nevertheless found delightfully pleasing to stare at for hours and hours while he gave vent to his thoughts to her. Now he was working on the centerpiece of his core chamber. At first, Malcom had wanted to create a statue of Amanda holding his core, to keep him close to her image, but he was unable to separate himself from this damned pedestal. All he could do was move it around, with his three-inch sphere perched precisely in the center. Three inches? Yes, his core had been slowly growing over the past few days, and it seemed to have come correlation to the size of the dungeon he had excavated outward. That couldn't be the only factor, however, as even when he had been trapping the passageways through toward his core, it had still been growing slightly. Whatever force determined his growth seemed to be tied to the state of his dungeon as a whole, while he had been expecting that he would only grow after he gained a level...

'Focus, Malcom! Stop letting the minor distractions break you from your task!' Instead of having a statue of Amanda holding his core, he had created a statue of her seated on the edge of his pedestal, one hand extended toward him to gently hover a bare fraction of space away from making contact with the whirls of razor-edged ridges that coated his core's exterior. He kept that slight space to avoid damaging her outstretched hand when his core grew, and the anticipation of her approaching touch each time his core swelled was something that brightened his days. When it happened, he would inevitably lose himself in conversation with her for several hours, before shifting the statue back slightly to create the gap once more. The basics of the statue were completed, but he was carving in such small fine alterations that any other artist wouldn't even be able to appreciate. He could see every bit of the statue, perceive every slight shift and change, and so he constantly focused upon it to try and make Amanda's representation more flawless, closer and closer to her perfection... until the damned, predictable distraction happened again.

Mana available: 100/100

Mana storage is now full.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Please consume mana or create additional storage.

Failure to do so in a timely fashion may cause mana overflow

'The damned notice seems to be appearing faster and faster! I used to only have to deal with this annoyance once a day, and now I can't even keep track of how often it bothers me! Perhaps I should create more of this storage... bah! An issue for later!' With barely a thought, Malcom immediately dumped all of his mana into another small swarm of Picantch, twenty more of them materializing in the chamber before frantically flying toward the entrance to the dungeon at Malcom's demand. The birds weren't permitted in his love's chamber! If he could create the damned things anywhere but his core room, he wouldn't tolerate them for even the few seconds he had just now. Having immediately dismissed the creatures from his mind to resume his task, he failed to realize that all twenty of the birds had flown out of the dungeon, heading off to join the rest of the flock. A mere five of the Picantch were perched in assorted places around the entrance staircase, as the order to allow rest had only been extended to 'half of them' when they were created, the rest of the flock never adjusting the ratio of those held in reserve after more and more were spawned. 'Now, where was I...?'

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"My lord! The people are in a panic, and it's getting harder and harder to keep people in their homes! We've already had to forcibly restrain people from trying to open the gates to take their chances on the road. They argue that since the birds have restrained themselves for this long, they aren't going to attack. This idea seems to be growing more popular, and if we don't change something or find another way to placate them, we're going to have a full-blown riot on our hands." Saluting fist-to-chest, the armored guard reported to an elderly human man, crowded around a table alongside other figures of importance from the town. The Guildmaster, Erkandirin the dwarf was present. A few of the wealthier merchants, humans all, who were in charge of the smithies and therefore the town's supplies of arms and armor, were strewn about in various armchairs. The captain of the guards nodded toward the report, waving a hand in dismissal. He was a giant of a man, standing seven-and-a-half feet tall, though he insisted that he didn't have any giant's blood in his lineage. His full-plate armor was plain and undecorated, if well-crafted, showing it was far more than a ceremonial piece. The dark blue hue of its shimmer sufficed as a show of wealth anyway, the plate armor made of a majority of mithril in the alloy, if not pure.

Frowns had become a permanent fixture of the advising council of Kremston this past week, for obvious reasons. The birds hadn't stopped amassing their forces, but still refused to make a move. It felt as if the town could hardly see the sky these days, with the hurricane of feathered monstrosities growing faster and faster each day. "Lord Jannis, the partial rations for the citizenry are becoming a problem. They see that the guards are getting full meals to be ready for combat at any time, but aren't actually having to fight to earn the keep. While I agree that we have no idea how long this avian siege will last, we aren't short on supplies. Perhaps we should lessen the restriction to provide relief to the worried masses? If nothing else, full bellies might keep them from voicing some of their more radical opinions for a few more days."

The elderly man's face twisted into an expression of displeasure, likely because he had calculated the costs of such a maneuver. In times of war, the town itself was responsible for the expenses and dispensation of food during a siege... so any increase in dispensation from the town's reserves was being taken almost directly from Lord Jannis' pockets. "The laws state that half-rations are an acceptable measure for any non-combatants during a siege. I'm aware there isn't an army outside our walls, but those birds are surely sieging us. If anyone wants full rations, they better be prepared to join the militia and wield a bow when the time comes." A thin, boney hand rapped against the top of the table they were circled around to emphasize his point, striking the depiction of forces arrayed around the town. "With all due respect, we don't even have enough bows to put in the hand of every able-bodied fighter we have to begin with. We're equipped to deal with opponents who approach from the ground. No one imagined we would have to face an army that approached solely from the skies. Even if those birds attacked today, the consequences would be unimaginable. How is one supposed to fight a bird with a mace?"

Lord Jannis reached into the pocket of his vest, retrieving a pipe and his tobacco, creating a moment's distraction to prepare and light it as he pondered his thoughts. "They're still birds. They'll struggle to deal with armor, won't they? How are we managing with the smithies to repurpose our metal stores into more armor? It doesn't have to be the finest plate, I imagine that chainmail would suffice to repel wounds from most of the body, wouldn't it?" Erkandirin shook his head, speaking up, "It's not most of the body that's the problem. It'll be a matter of a thousand pricks drawing blood. They'll go for the eyes, the hands, the legs. This isn't a fair fight, this is a swarm of beasts, and they will bury us with numbers. The only solution I see is to try and remove the source. If we destroy the Gods-blighted dungeon spawning these creatures, they should perish alongside it."

The group sighed as one, as the argument had been made more than once as the numbers of birds around them grew further and further, but they still had no idea where this dungeon was. And if it was able to commit this many forces to an attack, one shuddered to imagine what its defenses would be like. This didn't seem like the appearance of a new dungeon, it seemed as if someone had broken the seal on some great, ancient evil. Lord Jannis waved his pipe toward the Guildmaster, "Find the one who gave the initial report of the creatures. If nothing else, we could force him to try and lead a small, elite group toward the location the bird was first spotted. It may be a suicide mission, but it's a risk we may have to take for the good of the town. I don't know if these creatures are intending to starve us out before a fight, but we can't maintain this stalemate forever. Something must be done, else our deaths only grow more and more certain."